I have always fancied older women, and as I have got older, obviously the age group I'm interested in has risen too. So now I'm in my 50s, I like a nice 60-70-year-old. And that, you probably think, reduces my chances considerably. Well, yes, but it doesn't mean there is no chance at all.
You go on a dating website and there are plenty of grannies, although the sites that talk about MILFs (moms I'd like to fuck) have different standards from mine. They are mainly talking about 30-somethings for the benefit of teenage boys. And sites devoted to GILFs (grannies I'd like to fuck) just don't seem genuine to me. You never seem to get a response, or if you do it's from someone who clearly hasn't read your message and is probably working for the site, stringing you along.
Anyway, I joined a respectable dating site and struck up an email conversation with a woman of 67. It was she who brought up the age difference, and of course I said it didn't matter, which it doesn't unless you are thinking of having a future together. If, like me, you just planned to get her into bed and take it from there, age doesn't matter at all. She looked to be in good shape (not that that bothers me particularly either) and sounded like an interesting person, so I arranged to meet her at a pub for lunch.
I arrived early and, as it was springtime, I sat at a table outside. She turned up in her little, sensible Japanese car and I had the chance to watch her walk across the car park. Quite slim, wearing a knitted jumper, knee-length red skirt, a bit of a heel on her shoes, hair freshly permed. Not a bad looking package at all.
We shook hands, which I always think is a strange thing to do on a date, but everyone does it, so I do too. We had a pleasant lunch with a glass of wine each and got along okay. Her husband had died two years earlier and she had just ventured onto the dating site to test the water. What this said to me was that she hadn't had a man in her life for too long and maybe she missed sex as well as companionship. I could well visualise myself lying on top of her and reintroducing the delights of penetrative intercourse.
What I wasn't sure of was how quickly to proceed, so I decided to err on the side of caution. She gave me a lift home and I didn't touch her, just said I would be in touch.
I emailed her that evening and said I had enjoyed meeting her and would she like to meet again. She said okay, so I invited her to my place for dinner the next night. I thought she might want another public meeting first, but she said fine.
The next day I stuck a chicken in the oven and bought some wine and at 8 o'clock there she was at my door. This time we didn't shake hands, but again I didn't touch her. We chatted happily over the meal and she seemed impressed that a man could cook. As I cleared the table I gave her a little kiss on the lips and although she didn't kiss back, she said 'Mmm, that was nice,' so I did it again and her tongue played with mine. We moved onto the settee and were soon entwined in a passionate embrace. If there had been a lingering suspicion that sex for a woman of her generation was different from mine, it disappeared at the same time as the blood surged into my penis. She was wearing a jumper and skirt again, so I slid my hand inside and fondled her breasts. She undid a couple of buttons on my shirt and slipped her hand inside, stroking and exploring.
I decided to go for it, so I took my hand out of her top and slid it up her skirt. Her knees were slightly apart and she obviously enjoyed being felt up, but when I tried to get my hand inside her knickers, she said 'You're not going to have me tonight,' in a matter-of-fact way. She was very turned on, though. There was a little damp patch on her knickers, where her juices were overflowing.
'Okay,' I said, and resumed kissing her and feeling every inch of skin I could access. I picked up her left hand and placed it on my bulge. She started to feel me through my jeans and as her breathing was getting faster and she was kissing and licking my neck, I decided to invite her a stage further. I lifted myself up a little and slid my jeans and pants down to my knees, then sat down again.
'Well, you can do anything you like to me,' I said, and she immediately started playing with my erect penis.
'You can suck me if you like,' I added, and almost without hesitation she leaned down and took me in her mouth. This was a woman of 67 giving me a blowjob on our second date, and the thought of it alone made me want to come.
After a while she came up for air and we kissed some more.
